


The Big Picture

by BurningGalaxies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Noncon kiss, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 04:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10983489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningGalaxies/pseuds/BurningGalaxies
Summary: Castiel Novak is a freshman photography student attending one of the  trendiest arts colleges of the year, seeking out new experiences he’s only ever heard about through others. When he meets his new roommate, a body painter infamous for breaking the hearts of numerous partners, he quickly finds that their relationship is to be anything but what he expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to NarretTwist for the amazing art work that goes with this story. (I'd link their tumblr but my computer sucks).

_Castiel Novak,_

 

_At Graham Hills University, we deeply care about your newfound experiences on campus and off, which is why we ask that you reply to this email ASAP. We know that it’s well into the first semester of your studies and we can’t wait to hear about what you’ve achieved so far! Please, within a week of receiving this letter, answer the prompt below so we can quickly decide if your response is well suited for the “Student Life” section of our homepage. Good luck with the rest of your year, and happy writing!_

 

_Prompt: What does Graham Hills University offer that has most positively influenced your work since your arrival? It can be anything: a class, teacher, associate, environment, etc. Please keep in mind that this should be specific to Graham Hills; no one should read your answer and be able to apply it to another university. Also, refrain from exceeding a maximum of 2,000 words. It’s unlikely to be posted otherwise._

 

_Sincerely, GHU Office of Admissions._

 

    Castiel smiled as he finished reading the email he’d noticed in his inbox, positively delighted with the prompt he’d been given. It wasn’t so much the writing itself he was excited about as much as the topic, and he knew exactly what - or more accurately _who_ \- he planned on writing about. With a few excited clicks on his track pad, he opened a new pages file, cracked his knuckles, and started typing.

 

    _GHU Office of Admissions,_

 

_I must admit that when I first arrived on campus, I was a bit overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people that attend this school. There has never been such an obvious difference seen in so many individuals in the town where I was born, and it has inspired numerous ideas in me from the moment I stepped on these grounds. My work as a photographer is difficult without people, and I’m pleased that there is such an overabundance of them here._

 

No, no. That wasn’t quite right. Cas edited his last line slightly.

 

    _… is difficult without_ **_the right_ ** _people, and I’m pleased that I’ve found them here._

 

Yes. Better.

 

    _I’ve met multiple people that not only changed my views on what I do, but have come to accept photography as important of an art as the ones they study themselves. Of these very important individuals, I feel that the one most helpful in my college experience thus far is my roommate and best friend, Dean Winchester._

 

Cas huffed an amused breath as he sat back in his chair, biting his lip. Wow… Had someone told him back in September that he would consider Dean to be that close to him now, he would have been worried about their mental health. He was wrong, of course, but from the numerous rumors that spread through campus like wildfire, how could he have not been swayed into believing the picture everyone painted his roommate to be?

 

 

* * *

 

  **~ 1 Month Ago ~**

 

* * *

 

 

 

Cas had expected many things upon his arrival at Graham Hills University. He was used to people crowding walkways. The “Welcome Freshmen” signs stuck to nearly every building weren’t a surprise to anyone. The students however, were anything but what he imagined…  So many things that wouldn’t have been allowed in his previous school seemed to be an active part of everyday life here; Students with clearly displayed tattoos and hair dyed an array of brilliant colors milled about without a single teacher threatening to send them home for making themselves distractions to others; groups of people raced their (most likely) hand made mechanical cars through the pathways between others’ legs; And how many cans of spray paint could those girls safely carry around at once anyway?

 

    Another thing put Castiel off as he followed his guide through campus to the dorms, holding his satchel close to himself to avoid making contact with any of the organized chaos around them. He didn’t realize what it was exactly until he noticed that not only was he watching others… they were watching _him_. Not everyone, but enough for someone as socially invisible as him to furrow his brows in confusion.

 

    Then he hears what people are talking about as he passes.

 

    _“Are you sure it’s that guy?”_

 

_“.. roomed with someone like that. I think I’d leave, like, asap.”_

 

_“How long before you think he’ll ask for another room?”_

 

_“Dude doesn’t even know who the guy-”_

“Hey, are you okay?” The concerned voice of his guide pulls him from the voice he was focused on, and Cas quickly makes eye contact with her again with a small nod.

 

    “Of course.”

 

    Charlie, according to her name tag, doesn’t look convinced though. She pursed her lips in a small look of disapproval as she glanced around, and though no one seemed to be looking, she picked up on what was wrong instantly. “You don’t need to worry about your roommate. Dean is…” She sighed and tucked a ginger strand of hair behind her ear as they reached the right building. “Well, I just know him, y’know? He’s not as intimidating as you’d think. Kind of a complete dork, actually.”

 

    Cas hummed in acknowledgement, but he wasn’t so sure. The closer they got to the door of his room that he’d supposedly be sharing with this “Dean” character, the worse he felt about who he might be dealing with. Charlie, on the other hand, looked more relaxed when they finally stop walking, suddenly just as friendly as she appeared to be when she first greeted him with a hug at the central office an hour earlier. “Here we are!” She chirped.

 

    Before he could open his mouth to suggest he busy himself elsewhere and come back towards the end of the day, she promptly knocked on the door and waited, ever so slightly bouncing on her heels. “Hellooo?”

 

    Silence.

 

    Charlie shrugged at Cas’ raised brow, smile undeterred. “Give him a minute.”

 

    More silence.

 

    “Charlie, I really don’t think we should-” Cas started, adjusting his beanie - only to be cut off by the door swinging open by the man of the hour. He nearly filled the doorframe with his broad shoulders as he leaned against it, and as he stepped more into the light, Cas could tell based on his wrinkled jeans and faded AC DC shirt that he wasn’t expecting company. Or, that’s what his look of surprise suggested, but then the look morphed into amusement within the space of a blink, his lips curling up into a smile that made Cas feel like shark bait.

 

   

“Hey, Charlie. New roomie?” Dean only glances at her before going back to eyeing the freshman up. “Didn’t know he’d be this young.”

 

    Charlie snorted and Cas narrowed his eyes even further. “This is Castiel Novak, and he looks young because he _is_ young. He’s one of the freshmen babies.” She patted his head lightly with a sweet smile that seemed more than a little condescending in Cas’ eyes. Which he rolled.

 

    “‘Castiel’?” Dean rolled the name on his tongue slowly, working through every syllable. “Huh. That’s a new one. Name’s Dean, by the way.”

 

    Cas nodded and adjusted his bag again - an action that caught Dean’s attentive eyes. “Hello, Dean.” He greeted curtly, eliciting yet another smile from his new roommate.”

 

    “....”

 

    “....”

 

Charlie looked between the two of them for a long five seconds, then cleared her throat loudly. “ _Anyway_ , now that you guys know each other and everything, I think I’m gonna get going… Gotta lot of other babies to direct and stuff.” She gestured over her shoulder as she started stepping back.

 

Dean finally broke eye contact with his “new roomie” to nod to her. “Thanks, Charlie. See you ‘round.”

 

    “At the park on Friday?”

 

    “At the park on Friday.” Dean nodded with a knowing smile. Cas watched as they waved to each other, Dean shaking his head as he looked before his eyes landed on him again. “C’mon.” he gestured inside with his head, pushing away from the frame and turning to lead Cas inside.

 

    The ‘freshman baby’ (?) followed as directed, fixing the strap of his bag on his shoulder as they stepped further into the room - the room that now seemed much smaller on the inside than it had from the outside. As Dean closed the door behind him, he surveyed both sides of the room - one cluttered with pictures and drawings and rumpled sheets and scattered clothes, the other with nothing but a small, unused desk and piles of trash/fast food bags on the extra bed…

 

    “Yeah,” Dean huffed a small laugh, moving ahead of him to start cleaning said mess. “Sorry about that. I was going to clean up a little, but there was class, and practice and, well, you know.” He shrugged apologetically.

 

    Cas only nodded in acknowledgement, more focused on Dean’s side of the room and the walls adorned with what could only be described as _beautiful_ designs. Ignoring the mess, he could make out body parts here and there; Arms and legs and shoulders and backs - every part imaginable - with intricate patterns decorating each one. He tilted his head as he admired the sketches (some of them pictures of the real thing), intrigued.

 

    “You like them?” Dean’s voice suddenly asked from behind him, and Cas glanced over his shoulder.

 

    “They’re interesting. I’m guessing you work with tattoos...?” His eyes darted to the tattoo of some sort of religious symbol peaking out near Dean’s collar, then to the more obvious gear design running down the length of his right arm.

 

    He laughed. “Body paint, actually.”

 

    “Ah,” Cas nodded, putting another step between him and Dean so he didn’t feel like he was being suffocated by the sheer proximity between them.

 

    Dean raised an eyebrow, tossing his armful of wrappers and bags in the almost-overflowing trash bin. “Not much of a talker, are you.”

 

    Cas shrugged, making his way over to what he assumed was now his bed and taking off his bag to carefully set it at the desk in the corner. He wasn’t a social person to begin with, let alone with a person who apparently had a bad reputation. For what? He wasn’t sure yet, but he didn’t want to find out the hard way. “I tend to keep to myself if I can, yes.”

 

    “And so you chose to go to a school where everyone’s about “expressing yourself”, naturally.” Dean flopped down onto his bed with a tired sigh and a humored roll of his eyes.

 

    Cas’ answer as he unpacked his equipment, or lack of answer rather, revealed how miffed he felt towards Dean’s crude way of phrasing. The body painter didn’t seem to notice though. Maybe his line of work numbed his sensitivity to personal boundaries?

 

    “So what’re you in for anyway? You look kinda nerdy. Maybe mechanical design? Do you make like, little robots, or maybe films? I bet you make films.” He grinned as he looked away from the paper on his wall he was mindlessly playing with, almost chuckling as he watched Cas move around. Guy moved like he had a stick up his ass.

 

    Cas shook his head, setting his camera case down on the desk and carefully examining the lens of his favorite work tool. When Dean’s eyes landed on it, his grin fell flat instantly and he let out a heavy, drawn out sigh, wincing like the sight physically pained him. “Of course you’re a _photographer_.”

 

    The suddenly disappointed tone tugged the young artist’s features into a disapproving frown and he finally looked back at Dean again, raising an eyebrow of his own challengingly. “What’s wrong with being a _‘photographer’_?”

 

    “Nothing, nothing,” He shrugged, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s just sort of a dying profession. Everyone can take pictures with their phones, but if you want to do it professionally, you have to be _good_ . _Really_ good. If you don’t have a good message, then you’re basically just messing around with a camera.”

 

    “Is that not why they offer classes for it?” Cas demanded, eyebrows furrowed. “No one is born knowing how to take excellent pictures, and my work is more than what people use their cameras for today.” Why was he even explaining himself to this man?

 

    Dean held up his hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t say you couldn’t do it, I’m just sayin’ it’s not really considered an _art_ art around here, so I wouldn’t go around getting cocky about it.”

 

    They stared at each other for a tense minute before Cas turned away, packing up his camera swiftly (but carefully), and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I need to go get my things from the office.” He muttered.

 

    “Castiel, c’mon.” Dean tried to reason, but Cas was gone before his new roommate could say another word.

 

 

* * *

  

**~ Present ~**

 

* * *

 

 

 

    _At first, we did not get along. It seems ridiculous to have ever been upset with him for his views now that I understand. It turned out that he was right to think of me the way he did. The clothes I wore, I borrowed from some blog online run by a man named “Jimmy26”, my choice of attending this school was purely out of curiosity, and my goals to intellectually improve my skills in photography weren’t truly what I wanted either. I was essentially pretending to be someone else. Somehow, Dean saw that, and he accepted my apology for not listening to his opinion from the beginning._

 

_I know now that seeing people at one angle isn’t the same as picturing them at another, and that one angle will never fully define one person — especially in one frame. Because of this, I’ve considered collaging, but I’m not sure if there are any professions that require skills like that. Perhaps I’ll work with magazines?_

 

_But that’s beside the point. My point is that I can consider other options in my field because Dean opened my eyes to them. Though he isn’t one for philosophy, I’ve found his words to be incredibly helpful for me. If he hadn’t invited me to the park after our first disagreement, I’m not sure I could have really seen what he meant when he said, “Being fascinated with people isn’t enough; take pictures of what no one else sees and make that your message”._

 

 

* * *

 

  **~ 3 Weeks Ago ~**

 

* * *

 

 

 

“The truth is, I don’t really care that much about pictures,” Dean shrugged from where he lay splayed in the grass at Castiel’s feet, twirling a few blades of grass between his fingers. “I don’t go out of my way to be in them, let alone take them. It’s just… not a necessity.”

 

    “Of course it isn’t,” Cas distractedly replied, sitting at the ledge of the water fountain, curled over his camera and fiddling with the settings. “Neither is any other form of art, but it makes things interesting.” He glanced up momentarily when a couple of people passed by, then returned his focus to his task.

 

    “Yeah, but like,” Dean huffed, thinking about it a moment and rolling over onto his stomach. “You’re not really making anything. You’re just taking what’s already there and those are _facts_. Taking a picture of some girl tells you what she looks like, but it’s not like something insightful.”

 

    “That depends on what kind of photography you’re talking about. Some are informational and some are meant to make an impact. I understand that taking pictures of solely people isn’t a broad subject, but I find it… interesting.” He couldn’t explain why he liked it so much without sounding weird, but he just _did_. He could blend in so well with a crowd that no one ever noticed him, and that gave him the perfect opportunity to observe how others went about their day.

 

“I guess,” Dean nodded, dropping his previous objects of entertainment and rubbing his hands together. He looked around at the park, taking in the few people that were milling around. It was a nice day for going out, thankfully, but that also meant there would be more people. This park wasn’t as crowded though, because most students preferred to spend their time off campus on Fridays. “I don’t see the big deal, but if you see your message in random people, then alright.”

 

“Hm,” Cas held up his camera, checking the lens. “You mentioned something about a message before, but I’m not sure what you mean.”

 

    Dean tilted his head, talking slowly as if choosing his words carefully. “A message is what you want your art to explain for you. You can take a picture of someone smiling, sure, but what does that mean?”

 

    “It means that they’re happy.”

 

    “Well, _yeah_ ,” Dean chuckled, looking up at Cas and squinting against the sunlight. “But that’s obvious, no one can miss that. Being fascinated with people isn’t enough. Take pictures of what no one else sees and make _that_ your message.”

 

    The wind picked up then, sending Cas’ tufts of wild hair flying every which way. “I… I think I understand now. Could you explain your message, for an example?”

 

Being a photographer took sharp focus, something that Cas had never lacked in the slightest. In fact, he was so used to observing every detail of his surroundings that he already knew more about Dean than Dean could even guess he knew about him. Like his love interests, for instance. Multiple people (none of them freshmen) had asked him what it was like to live with someone who cared so little about others, because he apparently was interested in most everyone, but could never be depended on for anything but his (admittedly outstanding) sexual abilities.

 

That was something Cas didn’t want to know.

 

Other things he picked up on included how Dean lived around their dorm, for whatever little time he was actually around, anyway. Cas had figured out fairly quickly that Dean wasn’t as rich as most of the students around; he rarely ever broke out a new drawing pad to work on unless every other piece of paper was used, he didn’t waste a single bit of food from any meal, and he would never be caught going anywhere even remotely “fancy” outside of campus. He most likely earned some sort of athletic scholarship to pay for this specific schooling, which would explain his hidden uniform and why he was always gone before Castiel woke up each morning.

 

Also, the fact that Dean never mentioned his athletic responsibilities was a strong indicator that he held little to no interest in it. Putting forth the effort to hide his uniform didn’t make sense otherwise. Another thing that didn’t make sense was his behavior towards almost every other student in the school; With Cas and Charlie, he was laid back and mischievous. But the few times he noticed Dean in the hallway? He was always scowling to himself, hands shoved in his pockets and staring straight ahead as if to avoid everyone around him. The change of behavior was strange, but Cas noticed it nonetheless.

 

Despite that, Cas only knew those things to be fact. He _knew_ Dean, sort of. He didn’t understand him. Hence why he wanted to know his “message”.

 

The man shrugged, stretching out in the grass with a groan before finally going still. “I just like drawing on skin, I guess. Teachers always used to yell at people for doing it and being a distraction, but who cares? Fuck them.”

 

Cas nodded. “So your work is an act of rebellion.”

 

Dean huffed. “Yeah, Cas. I’m a _total_ rebel.”

 

The younger of the two hummed thoughtfully, momentarily fixated on Dean’s face and the way the sun illuminated his features, making his eyes shine and his freckles almost disappear, smile as innocent as much as care free. It was more than just a smile. It wasn’t the smile of someone who couldn’t love another person…

 

He then realized the lack of communication between them, feeling prompted to speak by the silence as it stretched on. _May I take a picture of you?_ Cas thought, opening his mouth to ask, but suddenly finding himself too shy to ask for something that odd. “Dean?”

 

“Cas?”

 

“...Aren’t your friends supposed to be here by now?”

 

“Eh. They’re douchebags.”

 

Oh. Cas nodded slowly, putting his camera around his neck. “I see…”

 

“Cas.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“They’re not really douchebags. I was just joking.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled. “They’re okay. Charlie has that whole peer mentoring thing, Jo works with her mom at the Roadhouse, and Kevin… the kid has a pretty strict schedule. He’s going to be late today anyway.”

 

That made sense. Every college kid had to be busy with something, whether it be school, or work, or extra curriculars. “Were you busy today?”

 

“Me? Nah, it’s a free day once classes are over. How about you?”

 

“I made time.”

 

“Aww, just for me? How considerate of you.” Dean teased.

 

For some reason unknown to Castiel, he felt his cheeks burning in response to that tone, which he knew wasn’t from the heat because the water running a mere couple of inches from his back was keeping him cool. Just as he opened his mouth to protest, Dean interrupted.

 

“Oh - here comes Jo,” His gaze fell from behind Castiel’s shoulder to his face again, then the camera hanging around his neck. “You want to sit here and ponder your life’s meaning some more, or do you want to actually meet people?”

 

Cas thought about it, glancing behind him at the petite, blonde girl that seemed to be waving them over from the statue of a horse across the park. If he hadn’t known she was someone else, he might have mistaken her for… another blonde girl he knew. “I think -” He looked back to Dean. “I think I’ll be fine here. I have someone important to me that I haven’t called in a while, and I think I should do that right now.”

 

“Huh,” Dean shrugged, getting up from his spot and swiping grass off of his clothes, a pair of casual jeans and a Pink Floyd T-shirt. He seemed to get the implied message Cas was giving him. “Okay then, come over whenever you feel like it.”

 

He nodded, unconsciously holding his bag closer to himself. He spoke up as Dean started to walk away. “Hey, Dean?”

 

“Yeah, Cas?” said sophomore student paused.

 

“Thank you for inviting me.”

 

Dean didn’t say anything for a second, but then he smiled and shook his head. “No problem. If you ever ‘make more time’, you’re free to hang out with us.” They nodded in mutual understanding, and then he was walking away, meeting Jo halfway across the large campus and enveloping her in what looked like a very tight hug.

 

Cas did what he did best and watched from where he was still sat at the stone ledge of the fountain, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips when the pair of friends went tumbling down into the grass into some sort of playful wrestling match, laughter audible even from the distance where he observed them.

 

With that same small smile on his face, he lifted his trusty camera up to his eyes and took a picture of them.

 

 

* * *

 

  **~ Present ~**

 

* * *

 

 

 

    _Of course, every friendship has its ups and downs. While I can’t really consider Dean a teacher or the only reason for my success, I also can’t classify him as a simple associate. Thus, he is my best friend, and that’s the way I hoped it would be since I met him. I made that perfectly clear when I told him I needed to call Meg, and I know he understood what I meant. When someone is under certain influences however, those kinds of things don’t seem to factor into their decision making abilities._

 

_I won’t say what happened exactly, but it resulted in a barrier between Dean and I that I’m glad we were able to work past. Given his bad habits, I was less willing to forgive him for our incident, but again, he managed to change my mind before I assumed the worst to be true. He let me see the truth behind the rumors, and the truth is that Dean Winchester is a good man, despite his past._

 

* * *

 

  **~ 2 Weeks Ago ~**

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Breathe_ . Cas swallowed thickly, breath coming out in a shaky exhale as he wrapped his arms around himself. He was still trembling, but it had nothing to do with the cool night air. _Move._ He swallowed again, blinking back tears and pushing away from the outside wall of the RoadHouse. The blaring music could still be heard from the streets, but at least it was fainter now. It wasn’t all consuming like before, vibrating through his core and drowning out his words as people pressed in closer and closer still. As Dean pressed in closer…

 

    _Don’t think about it._

 

    Gathering all the courage and dignity he still had left, Cas willed himself to walk to his car like a normal person instead of running like he wanted to, wiping his face and hiding it from any passerbys. Not that it really mattered. Everyone within distance of the parking lot was too busy making out with someone else or too drunk to care.

 

    “Cas - Castiel? Hey!”

 

    Or… apparently one person wasn’t. Cas reached for his bag strap to pull it in closer to him out of habit, but forgot that he was wearing his casual attire, so of course it wouldn’t be there. He rubbed his shoulder instead and walked faster, but the voice caught up to him, a hand landing on his shoulder and pulling him back. He turned.

 

    “You can’t just keep bailing out on us, man,” Jo huffed, grinning until she saw his face. “I mean-” She let go of him, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear (that reminded him of someone he simultaneously never wanted to/ _only_ wanted to see ever again), “Unless it’s something important, or whatever.”

 

    Cas shrugged out of her grip. “I’m sorry, but I really do need to leave.”

 

    “Is it about the whole break up thing?” Jo wrapped her arms around herself to poorly shield herself from the wind, raising an eyebrow. “Because that happens, Cas, and I’ve seen it happen to a lot of guys who come out here. You just gotta -”

 

    “Jo, I mean it when I say I’m sorry I have to go. I appreciate the invite, but this has nothing to do with Meg anymore.” Cas hated to cut things off short with someone who appeared to genuinely care for him, but this wasn’t an option up for debate.

 

    He turned without waiting for an answer, relieved that Dean’s friend didn’t decide to follow him again. As soon as he reached his car (a Lincoln Continental), he fumbled with the lock, tore the door open jerkily, and slid in, quickly closing and locking the door in case Jo changed her mind about going after him. He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he contemplated his options, screwing his eyes shut in an attempt to keep his intrusive memory at bay.

 

    Multiple different scenarios crossed Cas’ mind, but none of them were very favorable. He could drive back to their room at GHU and wait to confront Dean there when the man returned, or drive back to the office building and file a complaint against him, or… or leave him a message and go home.

 

    Unfortunately, confronting Dean would be too hard for him to do tonight, the office was closed, and home was too far away to visit unless he wanted to explain to his teachers why he would be absent, and that was also very much _not_ an option. Cas groaned and pulled at his hair, then buried his face in his hands. What was he going to do?

 

    _Stop thinking._

 

    He sniffed and wiped his face again, rubbing his eyes. Staying here in the parking lot wasn’t going to solve anything either… He- he needed to go somewhere. But first, he pulled out his phone. Not knowing anyone else to call, he pressed one of the first numbers in his contacts. The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. Four.

   

Voice mail. _“Hey. You know the drill.”_

 

There was a brief pause where Cas debated actually speaking and making a fool of himself, but he didn’t think very long. Looking out the window at the bar, watching the door, he spoke. “Meg. I know you’d rather I not call you, and that the chances of you receiving this message are slim, but I don’t have anyone else I can confide in right now…” He rubbed his temple. “I’m at a bar called the RoadHouse and things didn’t go well. I don’t know where I’m going now and I don’t know what I’m doing. If anything happens to me, know that you’ve always been a valued friend of mine.”

 

       There was nothing else to be said, so he ended the message and… drove away. After a few minutes, or what might have been an hour (he wasn’t sure), he finally slowed down, finding the closest place to park and assess his surroundings.

 

He found a church, out of all the ironic places he could have found that night. But he had nothing else to lose, and if memory served him correctly, no harm had ever come to him from searching for answers at a church - especially in a home town as religious as his own. With a tired sigh, he turned off his car and got out, claiming a spot on the steps of the grand building since it was far past midnight on a Friday and no one was inside to let him in.

 

    The sick feeling churning in his gut seemed to dissipate here, far away from where his problem was. It was distant, like it happened a long time ago or not at all, even, but Cas knew better. He knew that he’d have to deal with the issue when he inevitably saw Dean again, and though he wasn’t looking forward to it, he had questions that needed to be answered.

 

    Maybe Dean didn’t even know what he was doing. Did he know, for instance, that they had been so close at the beginning of the song that they were breaking his personal space rule? Did he know that Cas stopped moving the moment they touched? That he tried to pull back, only to be pressed in closer by the body of someone else? Perhaps that prompted him into initiating the kiss?

 

    Or perhaps, given his rep, he knew these things all along. Such a professional drunk would be able to tell when someone was giving negative signals, but would he care? He wouldn’t have to worry about the crowd, not when his friends worked there. It was the perfect set up. The perfect excuse.

 

    But that didn’t sound like Dean at all; He was a kind person as far as Cas had ever been concerned with him. Something like the way his roommate actively included him in his group couldn’t be faked, and Dean had never asked for anything in return thus far. Tonight was “time for him to move on”, because “life sucks” and “you need to lighten up a little”, and he trusted Dean’s judgement on the issue.

 

    Then again, he didn’t act the same around others. It was always possible that he could pretend to be something he wasn’t, like Cas when he first arrived. Intentional or not, it still didn’t answer the most pressing question at hand.

 

    “Why me?” Cas asked the empty lot, his only response coming in the form of a passing car. Why him, out of all the girls out there that he could have gotten, or even the guys? Dean didn’t need to add a freshman to his list of fun nights out, and he never showed any sign that he intended to. Why the sudden change?

 

    That question alone was enough to guide Cas back to his car, to take his hands and steer him back to the dorm room waiting for him on campus, back to the very real mess in his life that Dean Winchester had created. All because he needed to know why.

 

    Yet, as his heart pounded loudly in his chest the entire way back, and the emptiness of the quiet hallway chilled him to his core upon his return, he couldn’t help but feel shocked at himself for needing answers so much that he would demand them from a man twice as strong and twice as drunk as him.

 

    A man, as it turned out, who wasn’t there when he opened the door.

 

    Cas still checked the entire room to make sure. Twice. Dean wasn’t passed out in the bathroom, or slumped behind the door, or laughing at him from outside the window. He simply wasn’t there, and Cas didn’t know if that was supposed to be relieving or disappointing. It never occurred to him out of all the possibilities that Dean wouldn’t be where he could always find him. How could such small things completely change his plans and rattle him so badly?

 

    The increasingly anxious photography student cautiously moved around the room, preparing for a night of restless sleep. Restless, because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t distract himself from the other pressing question at hand: If Dean wasn’t back, when _would_ he be?

 

\-----------------------

 

    Their discussion/confrontation/argument happened the next morning.

 

    Cas woke up slowly, which was a luxury given the heart attack he nearly had seconds later when he saw Dean sitting at the edge of the bed across from him, face hidden due to his bowed head.

 

    “Dean..?”

 

    Said Winchester looked up, and damn him for not looking the least bit hung over. He was dressed differently from the clothes he wore last night, and from where Cas sits up on his side of the room, he can’t smell a trace of beer or alcohol of any sort. “Hey, Cas,” The man attempted a smile, but it only served to show how tired he sounded despite how well he cleans up. “Are you okay?”

 

    Castiel glanced down. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

 

    Dean furrowed his eyebrows, but they relaxed again and he nodded, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck. His arm came down and he shrugged as if to say ‘what are you gonna do?’. “I know kissing you was a mistake, and I’m really sorry man, but you have to know it wasn’t that big of a deal. People get drunk and that stuff happens sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything.”

 

    Cas frowned. “I considered you as a friend, Dean, and doing something like that meant a great deal to me. I refuse to believe you would - you would kiss me and not think anything about it. There’s a reason, and I want to know why.”

 

    “Cas, come on. It’s not like I pulled you off to some room so we could have sex or anything. Mistakes happen.” Dean tried to reason, sitting up straighter and rounding his shoulders.

 

    “It didn’t feel like a mistake, Dean.”

 

    “Yeah, well, it _was_.”

 

    “Then why didn’t you make it with someone else?”

 

    “That’s not how it works.”

 

    “Like your message?” Cas caught Dean’s gaze for all of three seconds, but couldn’t manage to hold it. “Is this supposed to be like a message, where you do something and I’m left to interpret it the way you want me to?”

 

    “What else do you want me to say, Cas?” Dean huffed, rubbing his temple while impressively still avoiding eye contact. “I didn’t think about anything when it happened- I _wasn’t_ thinking. At all. There’s no deeper meaning to it.”

 

    “I feel like there was. That’s my interpretation, and you can’t change that by insisting that what I felt didn’t exist.” The younger of the two argued, feeling particularly bold.

 

    “I never said I was.” Dean’s tone is surprisingly calm, and it sparks anger in Cas’ heart that makes him grit his teeth and narrow his eyes, standing from the bed.

 

    “But the fact still remains that you kissed me because you wanted to, subconsciously to say the least. Perhaps you mistook me as another one of your one-night stands.” He accused bitterly.

 

    Dean’s eyebrows raises at that, but he stayed seated. “One-night stands…” Cas narrowed his eyes further, but then… then Dean _laughed_. “One-night stands? Who have you been talking to lately?”

 

    He shifts his stance. “I’ve heard things.”

 

    Dean scoffed, shoulders dropping. “And you believe them.”

 

    “I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t. These students have been on campus much longer than I have, and they know you.”

 

    A tense pause fills the air as they both stare at each other, the amused look in Dean’s eyes darkening like an oncoming storm. “No, they don’t. There’s a difference between a rumor and fact, Castiel, and I don’t think you’re aware of that.”

 

    “I didn’t think anything I heard to be fact until I experienced it myself, Dean.”

 

    “And what exactly is ‘it’ that you experienced that you’re so afraid of?” Dean spoke like he knew what Cas was talking about, but he never thought someone as smart as him would actually consider him to be like... like _that_.

 

    “You know exactly what I’m talking about, don’t act like a simple sorry will fix what you did.” The kiss wasn’t even the worst part about it — under different circumstances he might have enjoyed it. What he wasn’t prepared to do, however, was let Dean act like it didn’t happen the way it did.

 

    “What else do you _want_ from me? What else can I possibly say to make one mistake better when all you’re gonna do is go believing someone else’s stories over mine?” Dean’s words simmered with the heat of something he wasn’t saying, the facade of politeness flaking at its edges with each passing second.

 

    And Cas’ tone was no better.

 

    “I want you to tell me why else you would act so kind towards me these past few weeks if it wasn’t only to get me in your bed.”

 

    “ _Son of a_ — Okay, you wanna know why so bad? I was being _nice_ . I was giving you the benefit of the doubt because I thought, hey, maybe this guy wouldn’t be a stuck up snob from the richest side of this state,” Dean shrugged. “Maybe you wouldn’t buy into the bull shit that everyone spreads when they have nothing better to do. _Maybe_ I could get you to see that I could be your friend if you wanted one before someone else tried something, but I guess it’s too late for that, isn’t it?” He stood, large and intimidating over Castiel’s smaller figure, but neither of them moved an inch from their positions across from each other.

 

    “If that’s true, then why would you—?”

 

    “I felt _bad!_ Alright?” Dean had enough, and anything he was holding back from this conversation was sure to be blurted out in the worst possible way now, but _who the hell cared anyway?_ “I’m not going to lie and say you’re not attractive, Cas, because damn it, you _are_. For a freshman, you are incredibly attractive. And I was drunk, and you were moping, and I just didn’t know how else to help you! It’s not like I actually thought out some ‘elaborate plan’ to get you to have sex with me. That’s how it happened, and that’s just going to have to be enough for you.”

 

    Cas blinked in slight surprise, though he didn’t let his expression falter for long before straightening up again and taking a step back. “I don’t need you to feel bad for me, Dean. I never wanted that from you.” He wasn’t quite sure what else to say in response to… everything else.

 

    “And I didn’t want to force you into anything either, which is why I was apologizing. If that’s not good enough-”

 

    “I just wanted to know why, Dean,” Cas interrupted, now making eye contact with the man’s chest instead of staring him down with one of his steely glares from before. “I didn’t want to think poorly of you, but you have to understand that I don’t know you any more than I knew the people who told me about you. I can’t decide to believe one person over another based on simple gestures, no matter how much I appreciated them.”

 

    Dean stared back at him, shaking his head slowly. “No. That’s bullshit. I get that we aren’t exactly best friends, but you _do_ know me. I-” He huffed, gesturing around the room. “You think I’d tell just anyone about my art? About my friends, or daily life? What more could I show you for you to know me better, my social security number?”

 

    “What I _mean_ is that I don’t think we’ve known each other long enough to take it to a romantic level,” Cas objected. “Don’t think I haven’t enjoyed your friendship. It has meaned a lot to me. More than you can know. But, it’s difficult for me to trust a relationship like that in such a short time, especially knowing that you _know_ what happened with Meg and I.” He sat back down on his claimed bed, the previous anger and accusation in his tone cooled down to the tactful softness that he felt this conversation required.

 

    Dean didn’t sit, his metaphorical hackles still raised, ready to defend himself at the drop of a dime. “I wasn’t taking advantage of the situation if that’s what you’re implying. I never wanted a romantic relationship out of any of this and I still don’t.”

 

    Cas tilted his head imperceptibly at that blunt admission, and his face must have portrayed something that his silence didn’t, because the tenseness to Dean’s stance finally started to relax. He rubbed his face with another tired sigh and sat down again in defeat. “I’m not looking for that and I haven’t looked for that from anybody. Ever.”

 

    “You’ve never had a relationship?” That was… confusing. Dean wouldn’t try to kiss someone he didn’t care about.

 

    “Well, no, sort of— maybe? I don’t know,” Dean shrugged, rubbing his arm as if this conversation was physically wearing him out. Cas had never seen him this way before. “I tried once and it’s just not for me. Charlie likes to call it being “aromantic” or whatever the hell people decided it is, but the whole idea of gushy, feely love isn’t something I want. I mean, a kiss is just a kiss, y’know?”

 

    “How can you not care about something like that, though?” Cas spoke as if choosing his words carefully, but his tone revealed that he found that line of thinking heartless and perhaps even cruel.

 

    “That— that’s not it, Cas,” Dean sighed. “I still care. And I do care about you, really, but not like _that_. I don’t know, maybe I’m just ‘fond’ of you. Bottom line, I was drunk and you were there, and I did something that I regret. Do you think you can deal with that, or…?” He held up his hands to show he had no other options of his own. Whatever happened next was Cas’ decision, essentially.

 

    So it wasn’t a surprise that they were sitting in silence for a long while before he finally spoke his mind, looking up from his lap. “I don’t want to report you or move rooms, but I don’t know if I can forget what happened. To be clear… you wouldn’t want a relationship with me?”

 

    “No,” Dean shook his head. “Not right now anyway. I don’t know if things might change or whatever, but now? No. If you wanted to have a “physical” relationship then maybe, but I think we could still be good friends aside from that.”

 

    Cas nodded slowly. “...Can I have some time to think about it?”

 

 

* * *

 

  **~ Present ~**

 

* * *

 

 

 

    _In short, I believe that the people I have met at this university - specifically one more than others - have had the most influence on me and my art since arriving here. I could never find a person like Dean anywhere else, and I’m glad to have gotten to know him better upon rooming with him. He has the ability to change the way I think without changing me as a person, and I’ve never experienced that with anyone before._

 

_As for my future, I’m not sure what or who else might make an impact on my art. I feel that I still have more factual things to learn from my education here at this school, but the progress I’ve made so far is more than I’ve previously been able to make on my own. There are just so many options for me to explore that I haven’t considered— on top of the ones I planned on taking, of course. There’s no saying where I might go, but-_

    “Hey!” Cas flinched away from the laptop screen he was so absorbed in just in time to notice Dean’s head poke around the corner of their open door. Huh… when had that _not_ been closed?

 

    “Are you coming or not, Casanova?” The complaining artist took a second to spit out his plastic fangs so he could whine clearer. “I’ve got more faces to paint than just yours, you know.”

 

Cas smiled, taking a moment to admire his friend’s impressive vampire costume: face paint that would make any real vampire jealous, and a flimsy cape tied around his neck. “I _am_ aware. But the party doesn’t start for a while yet if I’m not mistaken, Mr. Dracula?” He looked Dean up and down briefly with a raised eyebrow and a small grin.

 

Dean huffed, shifting in place and glancing at his feet, then back up in a flustered sort of way, though it was obvious he was proud of himself. “The chicks dig it, man. Don’t judge me.” And with that, he disappeared out of view.

 

Cas only chuckled quietly and shook his head— but not before Dean could shout from down the hallway, “And quit working already! Your 4.0 can kiss Halloween’s ass!”, to which he outright snorted and covered his mouth. Such a lively spirit for someone pretending to be dead… But anyway, Cas sighed happily and decided to finish up his letter as soon as possible. Dean wasn’t known for his patience, and Cas was actually looking forward to joining him at a social event. Who would have guessed?

 

It ended up taking a little longer than planned, but by the time Dean really started to whine about getting a chance to do Cas’ paint for his ‘monster costume’, he was more than willing to let Dean drag him down the hall to the paint room for his work. Many people, despite the nonsensical rumors they clinged to, had wanted Dean and a couple others to paint their faces for the October festivities, so Dean let him know full well what a privilege he had for being friends with guy who could get him in before the numerous other “VIPs”.

 

And as Cas sat perfectly still on his wooden stool, experiencing Dean’s artistic expertise first hand, he just barely managed to keep a smile off his face (so that Dean wouldn’t scold him for moving), thinking back to the perfect ending he’d chosen to conclude his letter with. Here he was, finally in a place where he felt he could fit in not just by blending in, but by truly earning his place through his talents... and here Dean was with him, clearly already in his element enough to know what he wanted to do, but now even happier and more enthusiastic about it than ever.

 

    Yes, his last line was definitely still applicable for now. In fact, Cas couldn’t stop thinking it to himself the longer he let Dean paint him, watching his friend’s intense focus and the way he smiled every time their eyes met.

 

    _There’s no saying where I may go, but I think I’m going to like it here._

 

 


	2. Dear Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel gets his due response.

 

* * *

 

**~ Roughly 2 Months Later ~**

 

* * *

 

 

_Castiel Novak,_

 

_We have received your response to our prompt from earlier in the school year, and we’re absolutely thrilled to learn that you’ve been getting along with your new friend on campus. We can see your intuition clearly in your answer and you show great promise, which is why we regret to inform you that you have, indeed, been pranked._

 

_Yeah. You’re not misreading anything, Cas. This whole stupid letter thing was a prank set up by me, the topic of your letter (nice response, by the way), and another smaller group of people who will remain unnamed but should still be credited for helping with this elaborate scheme._

 

_Truthfully, I wanted to tell you about all of this sooner. The thing is, you didn’t really trust me as much back then, and I didn’t want to mess things up further, so I didn’t tell you, and I’m sorry about that. None of us really expected your letter to be that personal. Usually we just laugh at the bullshit that most freshmen put down, especially the really uptight ones. Apparently our “pleasant teachers and wonderful staff” are the most impacting part of this college to some of them. I mean that’s kinda pathetic, right?_

 

_Anyway, I still wanted to make it up to you. Your answer_ wasn’t _bullshit, and it wasn’t fair for us to get to read something like that for entertainment and discard it like the rest of the emails we get. We’re not like that, and to prove to you that we aren’t, I myself, without any other person aware of this response, will tell_ you _what influences my work at this school._

 

_So hey. My name is Dean Winchester, and this is the story of how I became even gayer than I already was. Basically._

 

_Attending this school was not a mistake initially. I really did want to apply here— but I’ll do you one better than the stupid prompt and tell you why. Back when I was in high school and still in a devastating state of “what the fuck am I going to do with my life”, I broke my arm halfway through baseball season and couldn’t play for the rest of it, which was the part that pretty much mattered most._

 

_During that time, while Dad was drinking away his anger at the hospital bills we could just barely afford and the fact that I let myself get busted up, I spent whatever time that I wasn’t in school doodling on my cast. Lots of people draw when they’re bored, but lucky me was bored 98% of the time I was in school anyway, so I had plenty of time to practice my “distraction to the classroom”. It’s probably why I almost failed every single class I had, actually._

 

_But who cares? Doodling on a cast was really cool to me at the time, and after it was taken off I hadn’t broken the habit. So I drew on my arm instead. It felt really weird but it looked cool and it lasted much longer than scrap paper, so I just kept drawing. Sometimes on my arms, sometimes my legs, maybe even my face if I was feeling particularly frisky. To put it simply, I was obsessed._

 

_And then my extremely nerdy and intelligent brother, Sam, who now goes to law school because he studied so hard at every single school we went to, smartly suggested that I go to art school if I liked drawing so much. People who do body art aren’t all that well known, but at least tattoo artists are pretty popular right? I would always have enough money to live off of if things went south, and I’d still be happy either way, or so Sam explained._

 

_Dad wasn’t all that enthusiastic about that idea. Then again, he wasn’t all that enthusiastic about bisexuals either, and being in the closet was fun and all, but I ultimately decided that living like that wasn’t an option for me anymore. So what if he wouldn’t pay for my college if he didn’t like it? I could get in on my own with a C average, just by being an athlete. A really really good athlete, but still. My scholarship offers were enough to cover a lot of artsy schools, Sam picked the best one out of my options, and I went with that._

 

_And that is why I attend an art university with a name that reminds me of s'mores. Now back to the prompt._

 

_As far as this place goes and how it affects my art, I have to say that it’s been pretty crappy. Shitty would be an even more appropriate term, I think. In fact, I’d go as far to say that this school is exactly like every other art school I could have possibly chosen in regards to my work._

 

_Regular high school is crap, right? College is exactly like that, but for adults that don’t know how to adult properly yet. I am one of those adults, I have no problem admitting it. Still, this place expects a lot on top of the usual standards, because now I’m old enough to take classes that actually pertain to my major, and I_ still _have to go to practice because I’m legally obligated to. If I don’t, I can kiss my scholarship goodbye and consider myself royally screwed by debt for the rest of my life. It sucks. What’s even more stupid is that I don’t have to become a professional baseball player after I’m done with my four years here, so yeah. That’s yet another huge waste of my time I have to deal with, but one that I’m aware of._

 

_And on top of all of that, there’s this big, old, ugly rumor that got spread around on my first year away from home. You’ve heard of it, Cas, but I don’t really know how much you heard. Anyway, I can admit that I made a mistake by acting like a dick.  I really did date two girls at the same time. But that doesn’t mean I had sex with the entire cheerleading squad, it doesn’t mean that I’m easier than whoever you use as the punchline of your jokes, and it doesn’t mean that I’m only interested in people if they have boobs._

 

_Seriously. If you haven’t caught the bisexual thing by now, how smart can you be._

 

_But I’m not gonna lie and say that hasn’t influenced my art in some way, because at one point, I was willing to give everything up. My art, my scholarship, my life, everything. And all for some stupid reasons that aren’t that important anymore anyway. It wasn’t positive, but it was something. I sent a letter to the guidance office about it and everything, but I don’t think they ever got back to me on that issue. Figures._

 

_Like you, Cas, I was just the weird freshman that stuck out. (No offense). Most crafty guys don’t tend to be built athletes with 2.7 GPAs at best, but that was me. Did you know that it’s actually possible to be looked down on because you’re one of the biggest people in school? I didn’t, and it’s actually pretty ridiculous. You’ll get all sorts of IT type nerds sending you viruses via email because they think you want their imaginary girlfriends, and giving your opinion on artwork is more of an entertainment thing for smug rich kids who took drawing classes since kindergarten. They like to think they’re better than you in a way that matters or whatever, but at least I never had to repeat a year in school because I failed gym._

 

_But it turned out that was a good thing though, because that’s how I met Charlie. When my laptop kept shutting down on me every time I opened a new tab, I eventually had to take the walk of shame to the tech desk to have it fixed by nerds that would only mess things up worse. Fortunately enough for me, Charlie was the only one there that day, and she fixed my problem in like, five minutes. She’s a complete whiz with that stuff, and she was more than happy to help. We started talking about computer stuff so I could avoid more issues, and that gradually turned into her following me everywhere to “protect me from the Geeks from the East.” Every time they tried messing with my computer after that, she threatened to exclude them from some dumb RP thing in the park, and then they might as well have not existed as far as I was concerned._

 

_Then I met Jo, who I thought was a total bitch at first because she had gym the same hour as me and always flaunted the fact that she was the best runner out of all of us. I’m strong, man, but fuck running._

 

_But still, I tried flirting with her after a couple classes because she’s wan’t all that bad looking and she obviously had a crush on me, but with everything going on it just wasn’t the right time for us to get past anything but a teasing friendship. And to be honest, I like us that way. Even now. Not to mention that her mother scares the Hell out of me. There’s no way I’m messing with that woman or her family any time soon._

 

_We all started hanging out a while back before we met Kevin and Bela this year, and I have to admit that they’re not half bad. Kevin is really good at the cello, even if he is a little uptight for a guy his age. And Bela… is another story entirely that I’m not even going to go into. Trust me, it’s just much better that way._

 

_And that finally brings me to you, Castiel, the entire point of this response. I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent, but I wanted you to understand that I’m not trying to make fun of you or take advantage of you, or anything else like that. I want you to know me because you seem like another person who might actually like me, as pathetic as that sounds. You’re the kind of guy that someone wants approval from, you know? Because you’re smart but you don’t go around bragging about it, and you always listen to everything - literally everything - I say to the point that it’s almost creepy, and you look at my art like it’s the best thing ever, and you carry that stupid camera bag around with you everywhere because you’re so in love with what you do, and man, I don’t even know. I just like you._

 

_I don’t care that you’re awkward or that you might be kinda weird for knowing more about me than you should just by watching, and I really don’t want to mess up whatever might happen between us because of that stupid mistake I made back at the bar that one time, or because I pulled a prank on you and it crossed a line. I want us to be on good terms, and talk about our work and what we want to do, and maybe even work together if you’d agree to that. Photography and body paint could be a good mix, don’t you think?_

 

_Truth is, I’ve been thinking a lot about that, and it’s surprising, but I think the idea of us doing stuff together is more exciting to me than anything else has been in a while. If there’s anyone out of the people I’ve met at this school that could have any sort of positive impact on my work, I think it could be you. I’m being weird, I know, and I usually never act like the people in those cheesy chick flicks, but rooming with you has changed me too, Cas. You should know that I really do care about you, even if we’re not in love._

 

_Sincerely, D.W._

 

 

 

_P.S.: If you try to tell anyone about what I wrote, I’ll personally kick your ass to the next planet. Also, I know it technically isn’t a rule that I need to follow anyway, but I’ll have you know I wrote over the 2000 word limit solely to be the rebel you see in me. You’re welcome._

 

 

 


End file.
